


My Love, My Life.

by the_disco_deaky



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Cheating, F/M, gotta love angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 03:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17717282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_disco_deaky/pseuds/the_disco_deaky
Summary: Roger was what a lot of people called a serial cheater. You thought he’d changed. But, did he really?





	My Love, My Life.

**Author's Note:**

> A oneshot based off of an idea I had posted to my tumblr @the-disco-deaky a few days ago. Thought I'd roll with it. This is part one, there will be a part two posted soon!!! Thank you so much for reading.

It was strange. You genuinely felt like you should have yelled, thrown something, shoved the girl off of your ‘boyfriend’ as they both came drunkenly stepping into the hotel room you were waiting in. His hotel room. Freddie had given you a spare key so you could properly surprise Roger on tour, knowing just how hard being thousands of miles apart truly was because you were one half of the relationship that the miles were taking a very serious toll on. You were coping by letting yourself be lonely, letting yourself cry yourself to sleep some nights after he’d call you just to chat between the end of the show and the eagerness to leave on the tour bus to get to the next city, you walked around your flat, almost helpless at the way you were feeling. At the bitter sensation that you could almost feel Roger’s arms ghosting around your waist and dancing you towards him like you so often did. He himself… Very obviously coped in one way that you were warned about from a few other girls, which could have caused your lack of reaction as you looked at the girl holding onto Roger’s bicep, her clean and well done nails pressing into his skin, the make-up clad look she gave you out of confusion, her red lips parting as if she were going to as Roger who you were, the high heeled feet stumbling a bit in a drunken state that if she moved forward or made any sort of action, you’d be sure to smell the alcohol. Physically, you saw Roger’s eyebrows raise in shock at the fact that you were there, sitting on his bed-- well-- now standing and grabbing a small bag off the floor which he deduced slowly was in fact your luggage. A nine hour flight for this bullshit, you thought, refusal to even associate yourself with him any longer blundered into your actions. You hadn’t intended to stay long, only one or two days with the very foolish notion that perhaps, Roger was missing you just as much as you were. You were a fool to believe anything he said anymore, now or in the past.

I miss _y o u._

Okay? But, did you really, Roger?

I had a dream about _y o u._

That’s a lie, Roger. Stop lying to me.

I can’t want to get home and kiss _y o u._

You’re not allowed to kiss me anymore.

This tour is killing me, I just want to see _y o u._

I never want to see you again, Roger.

There’s only _y o u._

There never was just you and me. I just let myself fall in love and lulled myself to believe that it was just us.

I love _y o u._

That is the biggest load of bullshit.

Numb, that was a good way to put it. You were very numb and you had no instant recollection of grabbing your things, looking at the girl holding onto the arm you knew so well that your fingers twitched as you remembered how it felt to trace the muscles he’s built up from years upon years of beating a drum, walking passed the two of them with Roger’s blue eyes holding onto your body, searching for something that you were no longer going to give him. He had lost everything from you. He had lost those early morning laughs when the two of you were too tired to get out of bed and do anything, those last minute kisses from you as you refused to let him leave the flat without saying a proper goodbye, those late nights when he’d come home from the studio on the verge of tears because he knew what he signed up for, but it was still hard and frustrating… The chance to leave a nasty thing behind for a loving and reciprocating relationship. 

All it. Void in that moment. Oddly, as you looked into his eyes finally and let one of your hands push the semi-opened door all the way so you could leave, you felt like a receipt. Transaction completed, next in line, you heard Roger’s voice in your head as his pink lips parted in desperation to say something. But, he couldn’t think fast enough. Couldn’t manage an excuse as to why he had brought a very obvious girl who knew who he was because Roger had a tendency of talking himself up to be more important that he was, who knew what they were going to get into even if it was going to be mediocre. He was never as great as he wanted to believe when drunk, in fact, he got sloppy and impatient. Roger brought all of this back to his hotel room at nearly one in the morning.

“Who was that?” Your ears picked up on the sound of the ditzy girl before the door clicked shut completely. You didn’t get Roger’s answer but you could still imagine what he said for you stood by the oak door, waiting, your face null of any emotion. You almost felt dead in the sense that all your memories with Roger felt like they were flashing before your eyes yet you found almost no sympathy for them. All of the kisses were a lie, all of the times you told him you loved him, while true to every letter of the phrase, very well could have meant nothing to him. You knew Roger’s answer to the girls inquiry and it was plastered in your skull like a banner because you had heard it so many times, in different varieties. It’s nothing, love. I’m doing nothing, love. I’m going nowhere, love, just out and about. ‘That was no one, love.’ Love this, love that. 

Lifting a hand, you made an almost orchestration gesture with your hand as if you were throwing those phrases carved into you by Roger himself away. You were never his love, you were never his. You wanted to push that door open and shout at him, but even that wasn’t good enough for what Roger had done. You wanted one thing and one thing only. To tear him down into tiny pieces fluttering into the air carelessly, almost like ash from a fire as you watch him burn into oblivion. You wanted to crush him into those tiny shards of glass that he was never going to be able to pick up without bleeding. They’re going to sink into his skin and cut him deeper, straight to the veins of his heart, more hurtful and bitter than any word or phrase was going to be able to captivate because there’s always going to be a small part of him that belonged to you, whether he wanted to admit that to himself now or live with the guilt that he had lost you. 

Your fingers twitched with want to grab him by his collarbone and slice into his chest, grabbing his heart and force him to watch you as you danced around with it in your hand, your grip getting tighter and tighter every time you caught eyes with him just to encapsulate the feelings that he gave you in this very moment. You would made it last though. This… What had happened only minutes ago took what seemed like an age to process, in fact it was still processing vividly in your mind as the scoring fact that he hadn’t opened the door behind you to go after you sunk deep into the crevices of your dead mind, and you’d make his payback last just as long, if not longer.

You wanted to, oh god you wanted to…

A lump in your throat that you hadn’t felt before rose and seemingly blocked your way from swallowing, giving you the sensation that if you took a step or moved in any sudden way you would automatically get sick. So, you stood there awkwardly in the dim-fluorescent lights of a hotel that was on the cheaper side, but still, nice if you cared about that sort of superficial things. The weight of your bag held down your shoulders like an anchor to the ground otherwise you were sure some sort of irrationality would bang on the door of your mind and you’d recklessly let it in, strangling you into doing something ridiculous out of retaliation. While there were so many things you were craving to do now, alone and frozen, you wanted to sleep more than anything. Maybe, if you slept, you’d forget all of this happened and you could go back home without saying anything, without being there for Roger anymore and just let him slide under the table as another lover as he so thoughtfully done for you over the space of your relationship. A sniffle escaped your body, the first sound that you finally made since seeing Roger’s face, still heavily ingrained into your thoughts.

‘What are you so surprised about?’ You wanted to ask him when his lips parted even more than they were, the cigarette between them dropping to the floor. ‘If it didn’t happen now, I’d have found out eventually.’ You imagined yourself saying as you recalled his slight sputtering upon seeing you, taking that extra step forward and almost covering the girl who was with him as if that wasn’t going to raise more questions. ‘She’s pretty, just your type.’ You wished you had the courage to actually say these things, just to hurt him more in the faux fashion that you didn’t care as much as he wanted to think. That would hurt him, you thought to yourself and wiped at your nose with the back of your sleeve.

Roger felt he was special; everyone and anyone wanted him because he was indeed talented and very good looking, but when you took those away, you were left with an insecure boy who lashed out any opportunity he got because he was so deathly afraid of anyone getting to know the reality of who he was. The severity of who he truly was. You had the opportunity to knock him off his high horse and say ‘hey, I didn’t actually love you after all this time because our relationship was built on lies and deception and I see that now. Have a good life whoring yourself out to any girl who gives you the slightest bit of attention. I’m through.’ You wished… Goodness, you wished you had the guts to have said that to him, to pretend that you didn’t feel your heart shatter into a thousand sand pieces right onto the floor of that hotel room.

“(Name)?” That was a very familiar voice that enunciated well, smooth and proper. Your mouth popped open as you glanced to your left to see if it was who you thought it was. Brian. The mess of curls caught the light and shone lightly, his face feigned concern and mild confusion as to why you were standing so silently like a statue outside of Roger’s hotel room. Why weren’t you inside with him? “Oh, god, you’ve scared me! Thought you were a ghost, just standing here all stiff. I didn’t expect to see you here---” He stopped speaking upon seeing the expression on your face.

A dropping face where the smile you managed to give him was so forced that it was painful for Brian to experience second-hand, redness around your eyes as you were still trying desperately to keep the tears from rolling down your cheeks and dropping off your chin. But, that was long forgotten when he caught eyes with you, the charade was over. It had been done and processed and it was time to break down in the only way you knew how. Crying. Your neck convulsed with the wall of tears that suddenly stung at the back of your throat and eyes, one more pitiful attempt to stop yourself from crying but it was all in vain. “Oh, fuck, (Name).” Brian himself was never great with girls who cried in front of him. He never knew what was proper etiquette in his attempts to calm them down unless he were dating them because that gave him more freedoms and more opportunity to touch and soothe in any way possible. The tears came flooding from your eyes though in fat rolls and Brian panicked momentarily, “What’s wrong? What happened? Do you- do you need me to get Roger?”

Hearing his name made it worse, you realized, hiccuping and raising your hands to cover your face as you shook your head no. No! You wanted to tell Brian, don’t get Roger, I don’t want him to see me like this, it’ll only give him more power to know that he broke my heart! No, no, no, no… “Here---” You felt his arm shroud you as if he were protecting you from anyone else seeing you in such a state. Brian was a friend and had been since you started dating Roger a year ago. He’d always been there for you during your arguments with the drummer which were consistent enough that you considered Brian’s couch back home a second bed. He’d console you in the best way he knew, telling you what you wanted to hear before reminding you that well… If you were going to be with Roger, you needed to remember that he was very difficult and not just a walk in the park. There was always going to be turmoil whether you wanted it or not, or some sort of never-ending drama because Roger had a knack for attracting it. “My room is down the hall, can you make it or---” There was nothing but a wordless nod as you let Brian take the lead. Tears were spilling onto your lips and as you peeked your tongue out to wet them properly, you tasted the saltiness and cringed just a bit. You’d never like the taste of tears, especially ones with such bitter intent to remind you of all that had happened tonight and presumably all that was going to happen as you knew you had to push your way through sobbing to explain to Brian what had happened. 

This time was different… While you had your bickers with Roger before, usually over petty little things like who needed to do the dishes or you wishing he were home more, this was off-the-wall for Brian to give advice on. What did you want him to say? The guitarist thought to himself, unlocking his hotel room door and swinging it open. With a hand on the small of your back, he urged you forward, flicking the light on by the door and letting it click shut behind the two of you once you were both inside. You seemed to linger almost lifelessly by Brian, hoping that in some way or another, he’d guide you into what you were supposed to do next. What were you supposed to do? While you had imagined going home and forgetting all of this, that, you were certain, would not happen. You lived with Roger. You shared a home, you shared domestic memories that were casually up-rooted by your idea of being spontaneous and surprising him on tour. He gestured to the bed as the two of you lingered for a second in that space between the actual room and the door. You didn’t dare look at yourself in the little mirror on the wall there, already hyper aware that you were jetlagged, tired and now sobbing uncontrollably and that was not something you wanted to partake in. Now, Brian was no fool, though he often times turned the other cheek when it came to Roger’s rather womanizing ways. He paid little attention to it for it was a lifestyle choice he didn’t find as appealing as the drummer. The prospect of having a woman and then throwing them away was something Brian didn’t seek to do; he had too much empathy. Upon seeing you in better light as you rested your bag down on the floor, taking a spot on the full sized bed of his, he felt something sink indescribably within his stomach, as if he had swallowed a large spoonful of the most ill tasting soup imaginable. 

In a simple way, though he wouldn’t tell you this outloud for he was sure you already knew, you looked absolutely awful. While your eyes were so often full of happiness and joy whenever you were around Brian, they were almost cold and distant and he found it hard to read anything in them as you gazed up at him tiredly. Your lips refused to tug into a smile, even if you were forcing it. The one he had previously gotten from you in the hallway was hardly an expression of cheerfulness and was more agonizing on the eyes than you probably thought. It was the sort of face that you tried to give him right then and there but tears were still falling from your eyes. Your nose scrunched before your entire face balled up completely and Brian finally sought solace as he sat beside you, the bed shifting and squeaking a bit with the added weight. “You’ve got to tell me what happened if you want me to help you, otherwise I can’t do anything…”

You gestured nonsensically and if someone where to walk in at that moment, they probably thought you to be mildly insane as nothing came out of your mouth but a long wail, wavering in tiny vibrato. The sound stopped- you were left to cry silently, already to the point where you were crying too hard to make any noises other than the occasional gag as you caught your breath on the lump in your throat. Brian had rested a hand on your back softly, just to remind you that he was there and not going anywhere anytime soon, at least, until you stopped crying and maybe managed to rest on his bed. You were rendered speechless, holding your head in your hands and leaning into Brian without hesitation. There was nothing to lose anymore, nothing to bargain, nothing to bet or wager. You’d lost it all and at this point, you just wanted someone to hold onto you and mutter than things were going to be okay, that you would get passed this eventually, and that the world fucking sucked and that you had every right to be upset, even if that person didn’t know the extent of what happened. 

Brian could take a hint. He trickled the hand from your back upwards so it was around your shoulder, coaxing you with the tips of his fingers to crawl properly into his touch. Which, you did. Your legs were up, you were in a ball on the bed, nuzzled into Brian’s side as he listened to you cry whilst trying to figure out what happened. Very obvious to him was the fact that you were here, in the United States. You were hanging out in front of Roger’s door with your bag, Brian hadn’t seen Roger since the beginning of the after-party for the concert, and now you were here, lonely, crying to him instead of crying to Roger. Something happened between the two of you, something… Something…. Brian tilted his head to the side and put his chin on your head, his other hand coming up to now rub your arm. Something happened between the time of the after-party to now. Had you surprised Roger and he got angry that you spent money to fly here to see him? Had Roger been drunk and stumbled into his hotel room, plastered and you were absolutely displeased with the state of--- oh. 

With that thought hanging on by a thread, he put two and two together. You didn’t want to see Roger, you refused to see Roger, hearing his name seemed to trigger you even further into an abyss of tears… Brian’s eyebrows furrowed together as it locked and loaded inside of his mind. He knew what happened and he was indeed more foolish now than he had ever been for not thinking it firstly, as bad as that sounded. He knew Roger. He knew Roger’s habits and tactics. Brian knew what happened which spurred him to hold onto you that much tighter, uttering into your hair as you gripped his shirt and held him desperately. “Oh, god…”


End file.
